


The Dragon's Call

by LinaoftheAlleys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Inspired by the Rigel Black Chronicles - Fandom - Fandom, Rigel Black Chronicles – murkybluematter
Genre: Alternate Universe – Merlin, Covid made me do it, Gen, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, Not Beta Read, Rigel Black Chronicles Masquerade 2021, bbc merlin - Freeform, is this complete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinaoftheAlleys/pseuds/LinaoftheAlleys
Summary: For the Rigel Black Masquerade.Harry is sent by her mother to Camelot to be placed under the care of Severus Snape, the Court Physician.(Direct quotes and dialogue from the first episode of the BBC show Merlin.)
Relationships: Caelum Lestrange/Harriet Potter | Rigel Black
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44
Collections: Rigel Black Chronicles Masquerade 2021





	The Dragon's Call

Harry rounded the bend in the road and stopped, her eyes drawn to the castle in the distance. It was much larger than she had been expecting. A fortress of pale grey stone, tall turrets piercing the sky, red and gold flags flapping in the light summer breeze.

She felt her heart skip a beat. Her long journey was almost at an end. And what a long journey it had been.

Harry had disguised herself as a boy for the trip. It was easier that way, though not foolproof. Bandits did not discriminate. But she rather liked this ruse. For one, long hair was a pain. And secondly, trousers were a wonderful invention.

The streets of Camelot were not as busy as she had been expecting. The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon, signaling the end of the workday. As she made her way down the twisting cobblestone path, past the empty market stalls, sidestepping the spoiled produce and cats, she heard a sound that reminded her of a beehive.

A crowd was gathering.

The square in front of her was filled with people, their faces turned towards an executioner, who led a shackled man to a platform. Harry felt her stomach flip uncomfortably. She didn’t want to be here. But the thrall of the moment seemed to draw her through the crowd towards the front.

A man in royal regalia called out the proceedings: “This man, Bartemius Crouch the Younger, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic. Pursuant to the laws of Camelot, he is sentenced to death.”

A flash of light.

The axe swung down.

The familiar squelch of a head being separated from a body.

The crowd drew gasps, people looked away, covering their mouths. And then a voice spoke from above. A woman stood, tall and imposing, a mass of wild black hair framed her face, a burnished gold crown rested on her head, her dark eyes filled with malice and spite.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all. I, Bellatrix Pendragon, pride myself as a fair and just queen, but for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass. Death.” She paused. “When I came to this land, this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people’s help magic was driven from the realm. So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured and Camelot was freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin.”

A wail split the silence, and an old woman, with long grey hair, stumbled forward.

“There is only one evil in this land, and it is not magic! It is you!” She pointed a trembling finger up towards Bellatrix. “You took my son! And I promise you, before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears.” Her voice dropped into a low whisper that seemed to lift up into the air, drifting with the wind. “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth…a son for a son…”

“Seize her!” screeched Bellatrix.

The woman began to chant a spell. The wind picked up, pushing the crowd back. A whirlwind of dirt and leaves spun viciously around her, and with one last cry, she disappeared into thin air.

* * *

The court physician’s quarters were at the top of a short spiral staircase. Harry knocked lightly before peering inside.

“Master Snape?”

The room was large and well lit, multiple windows allowing in plenty of the warm buttery light from the setting sun. The tables were covered in books and scraps of parchment, ink wells and quills, dried herbs and sealed jars of ingredients, beakers and flasks and test tubes of every shape and size. Shelves lined the walls, containing even more books and ingredients. A bed lay in the center of this organized chaos, and a small stove and table were tucked away in a corner.

“Snape?” Harry called again. She heard a creak and looked up at the back wall. A staircase led to an unstable-looking balcony, and a tall man, with shoulder-length black hair and long dark robes turned at the sound of Harry’s voice, his back bumping into the railing in his surprise. It broke, and Harry watched, frozen, as he began to fall.

She didn’t have to think. With a flash of her bright green eyes, Snape’s descent slowed. At the same time, the bed slid across the floor, stopping right under, catching Snape from what would have been a deadly fall.

Snape swept up off the bed, his sharp eyes bearing down on hers. “What did you just do?” he asked, in a dangerously soft voice.

“I–I–I have no idea what happened,” stammered Harry.

“If anyone had seen that…” Snape glanced behind her at the door left half-ajar.

“Er, no! That–that was–that was nothing to do with me.”

“I know what it was! I just want to know where you learned to do it!”

“Nowhere.”

Snape snorted and crossed his arms. “So how is it you know magic? Where did you study? Answer me?”

Harry cringed, bowing her head. “I was born like this,” she mumbled.

“That’s impossible!” Snape said, with a frustrated shake of the head. “Who are you?”

Harry pulled out a letter from her pack. “I’m Lily’s daughter. Harriet, though I like to be called Harry.”

Snape looked her up and down, taking in her travel clothes. “I see,” he said, not pushing the subject. He took the letter from her, his eyes scanning across the parchment, his face unreadable. “Alright then, go put your things in there.” He pointed to a door that led off to a small room, before adding in a much gentler tone, “And we won’t speak of this again, understood?”

* * *

Ginny stood at the window, staring out at the darkened city.

“Ginevra.” Bellatrix stood behind her, her face severe. “Why are you not joining us at the feast.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I just don’t think chopping someone’s head off is a cause for celebration.”

“It was simple justice for what he’s done,” her guardian replied, nostrils flaring.

“To whom? He practiced some magic, he didn’t hurt anyone!”

Bellatrix stepped closer, her eyes distant. “You were not around twenty years ago, you have no idea what it was like.”

Ginny scowled. “How long are you going to keep punishing people for what happened then?”

“Until they realize that there is no room for magic in this kingdom!” Bellatrix’s voice echoed around the hall, her face screwed up in rage. “You will be with me with me when I greet Lady Millicent.”

Ginny opened her mouth to refuse, but Bellatrix was quicker. “I am your guardian,” she shouted, her chest heaving, “and I expect you to do as I ask. If you show me no respect at least respect our finest singer.” With a swish of her skirts, Bellatrix turned around and walked off.

“You know,” murmured Ginny, “the more brutal you are, the more enemies you’ll create.”

* * *

Harry slept fitfully. A voice called to her in her sleep, repeating her name over and over again. She bolted up in her new bed, the echo ringing in her ears. The sun was shining through her window, so she got up, dressed and went out into the main quarters.

Snape immediately set her to work after breakfast, handing her some tinctures that needed to be delivered.

She was crossing the training grounds on her way back when she came across an interesting situation. A group of young men––nobles by the look of it––tormenting a servant. Harry frowned. The leader was of average height and build, with dark hair, and deep blue eyes. He laughed loudly without a care in the world for what people thought.

_Oh, that would not do_ , Harry thought, as the boy––she refused to say man––started throwing daggers at the poor servant who tried to protect himself with a shield.

“Hey, come on, that’s enough,” Harry interrupted.

The boy turned, looking down his nose. “What?”

"You’ve had your fun, my friend.”

“Do I know you?” A look of disgust crossed his beautiful sharp features.

“Er, I’m Harry.” Harry held out her hand. Her mum had always taught her to be polite.

The boy didn’t take the offer. “So I don’t know you…yet you called me ‘friend’.” He laughed, his eyes darting to his friends, who joined in.

_Well then_ , Harry thought. Niceness only went so far. “That was my mistake,” she said loudly. “I’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.” Turning on her heel, she made her way back towards the castle. She had had enough of this boy.

But the boy called out after her. “Tell me, Harry, do you know how to walk on your knees.”

She froze. “No.”

“Would you like me to help you?”

A crowd was now gathering around them. Harry felt her cheeks warm. She would not let this entitled idiot embarrass her. She didn’t care if he was rich or noble. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” she said slowly, turning around and shooting him a glare.

The boy raised an eyebrow, taking note of her bright green eyes, her fighter’s stance. He chuckled. “What are _you_ going to do to me?”

“You have no idea.” Harry took a swung at his face, only to have the boy twist her arm behind her back.

Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away, struggling. Standing not too far from her was a young woman, her pale blonde hair pulled back into a knot, wearing the colours typical of royal staff. She bit her lip, watching, her small hands clasped around a basket.

“I’ll have you thrown in jail for that,” snarled the boy, jerking Harry back to her situation with a panic.

She couldn’t go to jail. “Who do you think you are? The King?” she shot back, twisting in his grasp.

“No. I’m the Queen’s son, Caelum.”

* * *

“Harry…Harry…”

Harry shifted in her sleep, before lurching up off the floor of the dungeon. The voice was coming from underneath.

“Harry!”

Snape stood at her now open cell door. “The one thing that someone like you should do is keep your head down, and what do you do? You behave like an idiot.”

Harry looked down, mumbling an apology.

“You’re lucky,” Snape sighed. “I managed to pull a few strings to get you released.”

A grin split Harry’s downcast face.

She was not smiling afterwards, however.

Harry stood in the stocks, her clothes reeking of rotten vegetables. The kids were on the hunt for more garbage to throw at her, when the same young woman from the other day stepped forward.

“I’m Pansy,” she said with a blush, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Lady Ginny’s maid.”

“Right. I’m Harry.” She reached out her hand from the stocks. Pansy muffled a giggle before awkwardly shaking her hand. Harry couldn’t help but smile in return. “Although, most people just call me idiot.”

“Oh no, no, no.” Pansy shook her head emphatically, her pale blue eyes widening. “I saw what you did. It was so brave.”

“It was stupid.”

“Well, I’m glad you walked away. You weren’t going to beat him.”

Harry snorted. “Oh, I can beat him.”

Pansy looked at her carefully. “You think?” she said, with a tilt of her head.

Harry shrugged. Snape would kill her if she said anymore.

“Well,” Pansy said, “it’s great you stood up to him. Caelum’s a bully, and everyone thought you were a real hero.”

That made Harry happy. She nodded towards the awaiting children. “Excuse me, Pansy. My fans are waiting.”

**Author's Note:**

> That was a horrible ending. I don't know what I'm doing and this isn't complete but for the sake of the masquerade I'm calling it complete.


End file.
